Harry Potter and the Final Horcrux
by Kristoff7
Summary: Harry is in for his toughest year yet. He, Ron, and Hermione are off to find and destroy the last of the Horcruxes.
1. Chapter 1

The sun was sinking slowly over the horizon and the little suburban street of privet drive was silent in a state of serenity. Brilliant golden and purple rays cast holy hues on the perfect lawns of every matching house.

All of this was quietly observed by a young man in at his window, his face pale, contrasting deeply with his bright green eyes. He was sitting utterly still in a chair by his desk in a poorly lit room. The floor was littered with clothing articles: socks, shirts, and various other garments. Sprawled across the desk was books with odd titles such as; _So You Want to be an Auror; One Hundred and One Useful Curses That are Hardly Legal; Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts (Auror Approved!); _and other such oddly titled books.

Harry Potter had been reading these and others seemingly nonstop for the past several weeks – each book had been read about four times to his count.

Harry sighed and leaned back, picking up another book, trying to cram as much information as possible into his already overwhelmed head. He was surprised that he could stand reading all day, like his bookworm friend Hermione. He supposed it was because Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been his strong point.

Harry grudgingly put down the book, _Dark Artifacts and How to Destroy them _(it was one of the many books he had ordered specially from Flourish and Dotts)and slowly got up out of his chair. He stepped unsteadily, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he did so.

He stumbled down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where his beefy uncle and extraordinarily large cousin were seated. Neither acknowledged Harry as he sat down at the square table. They sat in silence for a while, before Harry said, "I'm leaving tomorrow-"

His cousin, Dudley and his Uncle, Vernon both turned to him, their mouths open, in what Harry deducted was either shock or disbelief. He had, after all, been the bane of their household for nearly sixteen years.

Harry continued, "I won't be coming back-"

Their mouths, if possible, dropped a little further.

Harry, slightly unnerved at their silence, went on, "It's my seventeenth birthday Monday you see, and I'll be able to do magic then-"

Both Vernon and Dudley became a few shades paler.

"So I'll finally be out of this place." Harry finished with distaste.

The two of them looked like they had lost the ability to speak, and after about a minute of silence, Harry became slightly concerned. He was about to voice a question about their health when his uncle Vernon quietly and quite suddenly asked, "So you'll really, never, _never_, come back, boy?"

Harry nodded.

There was another moment of silence before Harry's cousin and uncle, two of his last living relations, levitated out of their seats simultaneously – with a completely absurd amount of cheering and yelling. They proceeded to dance around the kitchen and dining area, Uncle Vernon called out, "Petunia! Petunia! _He's _leaving! He's nearly gone for good! No more _unnaturalness_ in our home!"

Harry watched Petunia crash in through the door from what Harry assumed was the bathroom, her face crazed with a manic smile across it. She said something to Vernon that Harry couldn't hear because of Dudley bouncing his formidable body around the room, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Apparently the reply Vernon gave her was satisfactory, because she let out a large "_WHOOP!" _and hurried to the liquor carnet, bringing out more than a few bottles of Champaign.

Harry, appalled at the spectacle, quietly left the table, and stomped his way upstairs just as Petunia ripped out the cork and downed a more than generous amount of the sparkling liquid straight from the bottle.

It was a long time before the festivities ended. Harry had tried to read some more, but found that he no longer had the concentration. He idly watched the clock as it counted the minutes.

11:55

11:56

11:57

11:58

11:59

Almost there– Harry's heart raced.

12:00

_Finally._ Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He was Seventeen, and he could do magic. It was funny how he felt absolutely no different then he had the day before. Yet today he was free.

He crawled back into bed, to get a few hours of sleep.

Ten O'clock the next morning found Harry up and moving around his room. He was grabbing all of the things he felt he would need.

He released Hedwig out of her cage with orders to fly to the Burrow.

Suddenly struck with a moment of clarity, Harry whipped out his wand, and with a little wave, all of his belongings zoomed off the floor and crashed into his trunk. Harry quickly closed the lid and stepped back. Concentrating hard, Harry tapped the trunk with his wand, and it shrunk down to about the size of a matchbox. He picked it up, and with one final glance at his room, he strode through the doorway and down the stairs.

He was surprised to see everyone at the table, considering the late hour. They all looked a mess. It didn't take Harry more than a glance at the empty bottles lying around the room to deduct why. They all turned their heads when he walked in as if prepared for some sort of speech, but Harry only said one thing.

"Good-bye."

He whipped around and without looking back; he strode through the threshold, he hoped, for the last time.

Reaching the street, he stopped to admire the beautiful sky and shield his eyes from the bright sun. Today was going to be a good day, he could tell.

He strutted forward, ignoring the odd looks he was receiving from the windows and thresholds of every house in Privet Drive. Aunt Petunia had apparently been quite eager to spread the news of the departure of her rotten nephew. He smiled broadly as he strode out of his past and into his destiny. No one would stop him or approach him. It was common knowledge in the muggle world that it was too dangerous to be out at night, and the people of Privet Drive only left their houses at all for important tasks such as mowing their lawn, or pruning their hedges.

Harry promptly turned into an alley. It was the very same alley he had been attacked by Dementors two years previous. He glanced around as if worried that Dementors might actually appear again, before concentrating very hard on a certain drive way at Grimauld Place.

Harry was suddenly struck with the sensation of being sucked through a water hose before finding himself in the middle of a gloomy street. Feeling around his body, making sure he had all of his limbs, Harry was relieved to have Apparated intact. He wondered if the Ministry of Magic could tell if someone had an apparition license or not. Feeling quite decidedly unconcerned, he hurried to the sidewalk, saying the words _Number Twelve Grimauld Place_ over and over in his mind. He was surprised of course, when no house popped into existence. Harry looked carefully at the houses and then noticed that Number Twelve was already in plain sight to him and to everyone. Curious as to why this would be so, Harry reasoned that with Dumbledore's death, the Fidelius charm he had cast was voided.

Harry quickly changed this line of thought, and stepped up to the door. It was locked, as Harry had expected, so he concentrated on the word _Alohamora_ while tapping the door with his wand. He heard the lock click, and sure enough, when Harry pushed down on the handle, the door creaked open.

Smiling grimly, Harry stepped forward into dark hallway. Harry was suddenly hit with a musty smell and stifled a cough. No one had been in the house for at least a year, and the layers of dust covering the moldy carpet were testament to this. Harry soon grew used to the smell as he walked through the deadly quiet house. Harry didn't have much of a purpose for coming. He just didn't know where to start his hunt, his quest for the Horcruxes. This seemed like a sensible place to start, seeing as it was an old pureblood house, filled with knowledge and things that _screamed_ dark.

Soon Harry found himself in the kitchen and realized how hungry he was. He had left the Dursley's without any breakfast, and was now paying the price. He looked through the cabinets but found nothing. Harry was suddenly struck with the idea that he was being completely stupid, deserting his friends who had wanted to come with him. No!

He would not let them come with him. He needed to find the Horcruxes alone. He would not endanger their lives. Hermione of all people, deserved to finish school. Not get her-self killed on a wild goose-chase.

Harry forced the thought of Mrs. Weasley's cooking out of his mind. He had work to do.

Harry cleared his throat, and called out, "Kreacher."

At once he had to back away as the senile house elf appeared before him.

"Greetings Master." He wheezed, "What would mistress think of poor Kreacher, obeying a filthy half-blood, in her own home."

"That's enough Kreacher, I have a job for you. I want you to clean, _now listen to me!_ To clean this entire house – _all of it!_ As fast and best you can. I want you to star now!"

Kreacher looked like he would rather kiss a skrewt, but sure enough, scurried out of the room to complete the task.

Harry, glad that Kreacher had obeyed him, sat down in a dusty chair, to contemplate his next move.

What Harry needed, was to find somewhere to start. He needed to find out the possible places that Voldemort could hide his Horcruxes. He knew that Nagini, Hufflepuff's chalice, and the locket were all Horcruxes. The locket though was missing, and hopefully already destroyed. It would be worth finding though, to make sure. After that, Harry guessed that something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor's was the second last. If he could manage to destroy all the other Horcruxes, he would have a final chance at getting Voldemort, the last Horcrux.

First he would scour the house for any clue to where he was most likely to find dark artifacts.

He sighed, and shuffled out of the kitchen and upstairs to begin.

For the next few lonely weeks, Harry worked everyday, reading through scrolls, looking at the objects around the house, even braving his way through each and every book in the black library. He had not studied so hard in his life. Not even before the Triwizard tournament or the O.W.L. exams. Though he did not find anything about the locations of the Horcruxes, he did find a number of painful and lethal looking spells that he imagined, would prove invaluable if he were to run into any death eaters, especially his old Professor, Severus Snape. He remembered vividly the night he had watched Snape murder his beloved Headmaster in cold blood. He had even attempted to cast an unforgivable on the traitor several times. The potions master had gotten the better of him, but he swore that he would exact revenge.

Every night, he practiced these curses, and the ones he had read up on at the Dursleys. Most, he could cast nonverbally. He had gone on to the task of learning these and all of his spells silently, with unmatched determination, and found that with the right focus and concentration, anything could be accomplished. He had more than tripled his repertoire of offensive and defensive spells.

He would go to eat at Diagon Alley almost every meal. The others, he would make himself on conjured pots and pans. Sometimes he left just to hear people's voices and observe the ordinary lives around him as he sat, hooded, in the corner. Voldemort disrupted their lives too, he could tell. The streets were usually empty. It was rare fore anyone to be out alone, and every face looked wary, even while they browsed their various shops.

He would return each day to Diagon Alley, and would feel go back to Grimauld house knowing that he was doing the right thing. He was still frustrated though. It was true he had learnt new spells, but he was stumped by the continuous lack of information the house held that would benefit his search for the remaining Horcruxes. He still had yet to find the necklace, or where Hufflepuff's goblet, and the object of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw's were. He didn't even know what the latter looked like.

Harry began to feel it was a lost cause and he would go and sit alone in thought, more and more often. His thoughts would wander from his search, to his home, to Hogwarts, to most of all, his friends. He wondered what they thought of his disappearance. He had told them not to send any mail to him, and they were undoubtedly saving his birthday presents for when he came to stay with them. It had taken a lot of persuasion to get them to go back to their respective homes instead of with him. In the end, he had promised to meet them at Bill and Fleur's wedding on August 29th. Then they would go together, to find the Horcruxes. Harry intended to be prepared for it.

He was sitting in a poorly lit, semi-dusty room (Kreacher _had _been working somewhat) in which the gray walls were adorned with rectangular spots of paleness where paintings used to hang. The only tapestry left, was the family tree that hung stubbornly to one of the walls, its silvery threads almost glowing in the dim light. Harry stared at it for a while, fingering a locket that he had taken to wearing around with him. He had read the attached note so many times that he had memorized it by heart.

It was the locket he and Dumbledore had retrieved. The note it held was signed R.A.B. - his only clue to any of the Horcruxes. Harry put down the locket but continued to gaze at the family tree. He could see where Sirius' name used to be. Instead of his name, there was a hole, where his mother had presumably blasted it off. Harry quickly looked away and found his eyes on Bellatrix Black. She was his cousin, after all. His murderer also. Someday, he would get revenge on her too.

His eyes moved on, past Narcissa Black Malfoy, and on to Regulas Albert Black, Sirius' brother. He had used to be a Death Eater, but apparently had found the error of his ways, and had tried to quit. He was murdered on Voldemort's commands. Harry's eyes were just about to move on, when something clicked in his mind.

_Regulas Albert Black! R.A.B. He was the one who stole the Horcrux! Of course, it now all makes sense. Regulas must have seen Voldemort hide the Horcrux, so he knew how to take it. Hopefully he destroyed it, but if he didn't… I'll still have to find it to make sure. _

Harry let out a large "Whoop!" but quickly looked around self-consciously after he did so.

All he would have to do now was look to see if the necklace was in this house. It would be the perfect place to hide something, after all. With all of the enchantments on the house, it would be incredibly difficult to find without already knowing where it was.

Struck with another stroke of brilliance, Harry called out, "Kreacher!"

Immediately Kreacher appeared, "You called, Master?"

Harry observed again the lack mutterings from the house elf; Kreacher had seemed to be in a better mood ever sense he started working, as if the work made him happy. Harry was suspicious at first, but soon realized that work truly was what House elves lived for.

"Kreacher, I want you to bring me _every single_ golden necklace, or necklace with gold on it in this house Do it as fast as you can, please."

Kreacher didn't respond, but hurried out of the room to begin the task. It was only one hour until Kreacher came back.

Kreacher dumped the pile on the floor in front of him. It was a meager looking pile compared to the one he had expected. He was sure he had seen at least double the jewelry two years before, while cleaning the house. Still, he bent down silently and sorted through the assortment, looking for a necklace with the telltale symbol of Slytherin on it.

Harry, frustrated, double and triple checked the pile, but could not find it.

Harry had read a few books involving information on destroying dark artifacts, and all of them said that heavily magical artifacts could not be vanished. The only way to vanish it was to get all of the magic in it, out of it. The process would take hours of unbroken concentration. There were other ways, though. Harry, in his second year, had destroyed the diary by stabbing it with the Basilisk's fang. But knowing how to destroy a Horcrux would be useless if he couldn't get his hands on it.

Harry angrily got up and kicked the kicked the wall, acquiring several swollen toes. After momentarily ridding himself of useless aggression, Harry lay down on his bed and thought all through the night before coming up with an answer.

_Mundungus Fletcher._ He had been stealing from the Black estate. Harry had seen, with his own eyes, a bag of valuable items that had been stolen from Grimauld place. _That's why the pile of silver, Kreacher had found was so small, _he concluded.Fletcher had taken most of the valuables. Now all he needed was to find Fletcher and retrieve the stolen article.

Smiling to himself despite the fact that he had no idea where to look for a petty criminal in the wizarding world, he fell back into his soft pillow, asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry's happiness was short lived. The next morning he woke to realize that he had absolutely no way of finding Fletcher by himself. The only practical way was to go to the Order of the Phoenix and ask to see him. That was one thing he was dreading to do. If Mrs. Weasley was… well anywhere near the house, she would inevitably object to Harry going off on his own. Ron and Hermione would make things even more difficult by trying to come with him. And Ginny, well, she certainly wouldn't help either, he thought sadly.

So he remained, experimenting with a few new spells to keep his mind off his impending dilemma. An answer to his problems came to him in the form of a tapping against the window. Hedwig had left the burrow to return to her master. Harry was elated to see her, and soon came up with an idea.

Taking out a quill and some parchment he scribbled,

_Meet me at Grimauld place on August 25th at 6 p.m. _

_Don't tell anyone, and come alone._

_-Harry_

He tied it to Hedwig's leg and told her, " I need you to give this to… Madeye Moody."

Hedwig hooted diligently, and took off back into the night. Harry sat back down, suddenly feeling quite relieved. Madeye was the right choice. He would respect Harry's wish for privacy and would be able to answer Harry's questions. And if things worked out, he would have plenty of time afterwards to go to Ron's house for Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Suddenly energized, Harry jumped to his feet and decided to try one of the trickier spells he had read up on. Deep in concentration, he waved his wand slowly, and was pleased to see the air shimmer as a clear vapor poured out from it. The entire room shimmered and waved before his eyes, but he could still navigate it. The spell would be very useful in a fight. It was called the Illusory Smoke Charm and created billows of thick smoke that only the caster could see through. Harry was under the suspicion that he had seen Dumbledore use the same spell in his fifth year.

Feeling quite satisfied with the days work, Harry fell asleep with a renewed sense of determination.

The afternoon sun was glaring into Harry's narrowed eyes through the dusty windows of Grimauld place. It was 5:59 p.m. August 25th. Moody had not yet arrived. Harry checked his watch again, when he heard distinctly a _Crack_. He whipped his head back to the window, but was surprised to see no one standing in the street or anywhere near Number 12 Grimauld Place. He was just beginning to think it was his imagination, when a knock sounded at the door downstairs. Harry took out his wand, and crept his way down the stairs and to the main entrance. Harry raised his wand and shot a few sparks at the door, which promptly swung inward.

Again, nobody was there. Remembering an event that had occurred only the year before, Harry turned around slowly, and bent down, as if to tie his shoe. Quick as a flash, Harry whipped his wand at the doorway, _"Petrificus Totalus!" _He was rewarded with a large, muffled thump.

" –Accio!"  
A large, glimmering cloak, flew from the ground, and into Harry's hands, revealing the immobile figure it had covered. Harry tossed the Invisibility cloak to the side as he approached the frozen figure of whom he recognized as Madeye Moody. 

Trust Madeye to wear a cloak even though he could see me through the door with that eye of his, Harry thought.

"Specialis Revelio," Harry muttered, poking Madeye in the shoulder with his wand.

Harry waited for a few moments, and when nothing happened, Harry poked Madeye in the shoulder again, _"Finite."_

Moody sat up with a start. "Ya' got me that time Potter, y'did." He stood up slowly, using his cane for support. "Constant vigilance eh?"

"I'm glad you came." Harry said simply, moving forward to help the man up. "Let's go inside."

Moody grunted in agreement, and Harry closed the door behind him before following the limping figure into the kitchen.

Harry seated himself across from Moody, who was giving him an appraising look.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Eh? Nothin lad. It's just that ya' seem more like you father every day. More than just your appearance, I mean. Anyway, we got some matters to discuss, right?"

"Yeah," Harry responded, "I need your help, Moody."

"Yeah, I figured it was such." Moody said. "Well go on boy. What do ya' need?"

"Well," Harry started. "I think that Mundungus has some of my possessions, and I need to know where to find him to… talk to him."

Moody let out a harsh laugh, his sides rocking, "I bet you'd do a lot of talking, after ya' gutted 'im." He stopped laughing, "I'll take you to him then. First, lets have a drink. I need to tell you about some of the things going on in the Ministry." He added.

Harry nodded, "Good. I'll just–" Harry concentrated very hard, and with a little flick of his wand, a bottle of amber liquid and two accompanying glasses appeared.

Moody nodded appreciatively, and taking the bottle, he poured the contents into the two glasses. One of which he handed to Harry.

Harry took a sip, and watched as Moody discretely raised his wand over his own glass, and muttered a few words. The liquid glowed a bright blue for a moment and then returned to its regular color. Apparently satisfied, Moody downed the whole glass in one gulp. Smacking his grizzled lips, he informed Harry, "That's some fine drink ye got there. Impressive. I never was much at conjuring. Difficult t'get the right taste. Ya learn that sort of magic seventh year I believe."

Harry said something noncommittal in reply (he had been practicing his spell casting quite a bit) before asking, "Well, what is it you wanted to tell me about the ministry?"

"Eh? Oh that – well, more than just the ministry. There's always been a lot of focus on you lad. You're always in all the papers and in everybody's minds y'know. With that whole chosen one thing, everybody is wanting to know what yer gonna do about getting rid of you know who. So y'see, the ministry has been asking people about you. They went over to yer house the day you turned seventeen, but you weren't there. They had wanted to ask if you wanted to become an honorary Auror deputy or sommat. Had a load of reporters there too. They wanted it to be wide known that Harry Potter supports them. I surpose it isn't so bad, considering the low moral of the general wizarding public." Moody paused. "But I thought you ought to know that they've been looking all over for you. And if the wrong ears hear that you're missing from your safe home in Little Whining, you may be in some danger here."

Harry shook his head, "Don't worry about me. This place is as safe as any."

"Well, just in case, I want you to read this." Moody fumbled in his robes, before procuring a slip of paper.

Taking it from Moody, Harry read the parchment carefully.

_The Order of the Phoenix's headquarters is located at number 134 Sir Nicholas's Street, Hogsmede_

Harry had just finished reading it a second time when it burst into flames in his hands, falling to the table, ashes.

Harry looked up from the smoldered pile, "I didn't know Nearly Headless Nick had a street named after him."

Moody grunted, "Yeah apparently he died there. Anyway, we have more to discuss."

Harry nodded and refilled his empty glass.

"Well, the Order isn't to happy either. Now that Dumbledore's gone, nobody knows what to do. They decided to elect _me_ as the new leader, but its difficult. No one knew what Dumbledore's plans were. He was off to who-knows-where doing who-knows-what and I have to ask you lad. Do you know what he was doing? Or where he was. He only told us that he was doing something very important for killing you-know-who, and if it is, than we need to keep at it, cause he's dead now, but you-know-who sure isn't… -- well?"

Harry sighed, and rubbed the back of his head, "He did happen to tell me things about what he was up to. I was with him the night he died, helping him with certain obstacles. Dumbledore was indeed working to destroy Voldemort, but I can't really tell you how. He told me not to tell anyone but I will tell you this. I have not forgotten what Dumbledore was trying to do, and I _will_ complete the tasks. And by helping me find Mundungus, you may well be confirming that Dumbledore did not die in vain."

The room was silent and the air was suddenly quite tense. Harry tried to ease up the atmosphere, "So… you were elected leader? A good choice, I think."

Moody looked at Harry very closely, his fake eye as focused as his real one. Finally he leaned back and spoke, "Yeah well, _someone_ had to do it. Might as well be me." Moody looked quite as uncomfortable as Harry felt. Harry had just asked Moody for his help, but clearly didn't trust him enough to let him in on his secrets.

Harry quickly downed the rest of his drink. Moody did likewise.

"Well," Moody started somberly, "If ya' do come to Headquarters, make sure not to run into Molly. She's been a right pain in the arse since you've gone and left yer house like that. She's been yellin at me every meeting, saying that you need t'be protected, and we should send everyone out to find you– "

Harry rammed his palm into his forehead in exasperation.

"Eh, that's right lad. She's been suggesting the most ridiculous things. I have half a mind to tell her about this meeting just to shut her up, but she'd want to come over here herself to make sure, most likely. But, enough talk. It's time for me to bring you to the premises of one Mundungus Fletcher."

Harry nodded gratefully, and got up.

Harry followed Moody out the entrance, and onto the sidewalk. It was late evening now, and the bugs were chirping and buzzing happily. Moody proffered his left arm, and nodding to him, Harry took it firmly.

They disappeared with a _pop._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Oncethey arrived, the first thing Harry did was pull out his wand . He turned on the spot; taking in what he was sure was the most derelict setting he had ever had the displeasure to experience. He was somewhere in the London, he could tell. Dilapidated housing apartments rose up on their sides. The walls were layered with dirt and decades of filth. The cobbled street was broken and littered with various objects: old shoes and clothes, trash, and other miscellaneous bits of filth. The destitute environment didn't seem to change as far as Harry could see down the deserted street.

Harry quickly followed Moody as the limping man started walking over to one of the buildings. He stopped at a broken looking door and tried the handle. It didn't work, so he stepped back, and muttered a spell. The door handle fell straight off, and they stepped through the entrance.

Though the place was quite dark and shabby-looking, it was a bright contrast from the dismal setting they just stepped in from. The walls were a peeling green and the carpet was so filthy, Harry couldn't discern what it color was supposed to be. There were a few chairs and tables scattered around, and Harry saw a sink with a few pots and pans in the corner. There were a few doors that led to what Harry presumed was the bathroom and sleeping room. Harry, his wand at the ready, stepped around an overstuffed chair on his way to the first door. He paused to give the chair an odd look, but then continued around an inconvenient table and to the first door. He glanced at Moody, who was right over his shoulder, wand at a similar position. Moody nodded, and Harry wrenched the door open and stepped inside. No one was in the room.

No one was in the other rooms either, and Harry couldn't help but feel annoyed. Moody stated, "It looks like we're gonna be here fer a while, lad," and got a seat from a near by table which he sat down upon. Harry looked around, annoyed. He picked the chair nearest to him and sat down heavily. It was with pain and embarrassment that Harry found him self on the floor, the splintered and collapsed chair under him. It obviously had not been used in several years.

"Are you sure he even lives here, Harry growled," as he got up, sore.

"Aye, he lives here alright. Never was much fer tidiness though. That and being dependable." Moody laughed harshly.

Harry stomped over to the armchair he had stepped over before. It was when he bent down to pick it up that he felt it – a light tingling at the tips of his fingers. It felt like an invisible feather was brushing his digits. He withdrew quickly, surprised at the sensation. He inspected his hands closely, before realization dawned upon his unwitting mind. He had just sensed something magical! It was like what Dumbledore had said the year before. Magic leaves traces.

Harry dropped his eyes from his hands to the suspicious object in front of him.

"What's the matter?" Moody inquired, looking from Harry to his fingers as if there was a reasonable explanation to why Harry had just drawn his wand on armchair.

Harry paused for a moment, before driving his wand hard into the chair's cushion, concentrating on the words _finite incantatum. _

The next few moments were a flurry of confusion. The now revealed form of the filthy Mundungus Fletcher flew up, grabbing his wand from his raggedy robes, but it flew out of his hand from Harry's Expelliarmus spell.

Mundungus didn't stop though, and pushed past Harry, scrambling over a piece of furniture and almost making it to the door before–

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" The spell hit dung in the back, and he fell to the ground, straight as a board.

"Good work, lad. Lets get this filth up." Moody levitated Dung with his wand, and dung's limp body floated over to the corner of the far end of the room. Harry moved forward and muttered, "_Finite Incantatum" _for the second time that day.

Mundungus sat up this time, but with Harry and Moody's wands trained on him, he didn't try to escape. He let out a toothy grin, revealing two rows of yellow teeth.

"What's that y'want now? I didn't do it - I swear on me dead mum's grave I didn't!"

Harry gave a look of reasonable disgust and said, "I don't want to know what else you've done lately, but just the location of an object of Sirius' that you took some time ago. It's a gold locket with a snake on it. It means a lot to me to have it back."

Dung gave a look of relief, as if he had just been let off the hook. "Well, I can naught say where yer trinket is fer sure, but I believe I sold that one to a man known to me as Borgin. He owns a shop o'er at Knockturn. Shady place that is, but I did get a pretty galleon or two for it."

Harry lowered his wand, "And you're sure you sold it to Borgin?"

"Aye, that I am."

Moody, who had remained silent during the discussion, said, "Well there ain't no use staying here, lad. Next stop, Diagon Alley."

Harry nodded and said to Mundungus, "You had better be speaking the truth, cause if you lied to us…" Harry trailed off threateningly.

Harry and Moody whipped around and exited Mundungus shabby home. When they reached the street, Harry confirmed "Diagon Alley, right outside Alivan's."

Moody nodded, and one _pop _later they were standing next to each other in the open street. A few people walked purposefully past them carrying bags of miscellaneous contents. Each seemed in a hurry, as if they didn't want to stay out in the open for too long. Harry looked over to Alivan's and noticed that the shop was still closed and apparently deserted.

"Let's go." Moody said, his blue eye whirling around suspiciously.

Harry nodded and they made their way over to Knocturn Alley's entrance.

Though the rest of Diagon Alley seemed quite unnaturally empty, Knockturn was the same as Harry remembered it – dark and decrepit. Hags stood outside shop windows, displaying gruesome trays of human parts. Hooded witches and wizards strode, ominous in the gloomy light. One of the hags apparently recognized Moody, because she abruptly dropped her tray of human fingernails and fled down the twisting road.

Harry pushed his bangs over his scar carefully, and Moody discreetly lowered the tip off his bowler hat so that it covered his tell tale eye.

They continued further into Knockturn Alley, Harry making sure he was taking the right path by checking the shop names. After a few minutes, they found themselves right out side their destination, Borgin and Burkes.

Harry pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold. The shop was as dismal a place as ever, and Harry recognized some of the dark objects that were lining the shelves. Nobody was at the counter, so Harry went up to it and waited. Moody came up beside him and muttered, "More dark artifacts here than Arthur Weasly could wave his wand at..."

Harry rapped his knuckles on the glass counter loudly, and only a moment later, the shop owner, Borgin, came out, looking perturbed. It was only a few seconds before Borgin recognized Moody, and consequently drove his hand into his robe pockets to get out his wand. Moody was decidedly quicker though, and Borgin unwillingly had his wand flung out of his hand moments after he procured it.

Borgin's eyes were wide open and flung from Moody to the other intruder, Harry, traveling from his wand to his face and inevitably his scar.

"_Potter-_"He spat, "and of course Madeye Moody. What can I do for you?"

Harry stepped up, "I need you to return something of mine that you purchased from Mundungus Fletcher none too long ago."

"Fletcher, aye? I migh' ave bought a thing er two from that piece of trash. What's it to you?"

"He stole something of mine," Harry replied. "And I need you to give it to me. It's a locket – a golden locket and it has an engraved snake on it, the sign of Slytherin as I'm sure you know."

"I've never heard of it –"

Moody interrupted, "Yes you have, you filth, and unless you want a full enquiry on your shop and all its contents, I suggest you cooperate." Moody limped forward, his hand out stretched. Harry at first thought he was going to strangle Borgin, who had jumped back quickly, but Moody instead grabbed what looked to be a vial from a rack of them on the counter. Moody raised his wand above it, and muttered something, before looking back up at Borgin.

"Illegally brewed Veritaserum," he stated. "You can get a month in Azkaban for possession of this. This is only the first one I've looked at –"

"Alright, alright," Borgin exclaimed. "I'll show you the necklace, but you had better pay for it if you want it, and the price is not cheap!"

Borgin left them to retrieve the item from a secret location at the back of the store. When he returned, he was holding the necklace with obvious care. "Here it is – I'll give it to you for no less than one thousand galleons. It's a miser's bargain, to be sure, you must accept it."

Harry replied forcefully, "You will give it to me for fifty galleons and no more."

"But–"

"Fifty galleons."

"But I–"

"_Fifty._"

"But he–"

"Fifty!" Harry said, whipping out his wand and pointing it at the man.

Borgin was quiet for a few seconds before nodding his head and holding out his had. Harry reached into his pocket, counted out the money, and gave it to him.

With more obvious reluctance than Harry thought was quite necessary, Borgin handed over the necklace. Harry looked at it closely, checking it for its authenticity and pocketed it, satisfied.

Moody said gruffly, "Did you get what y' wanted?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, yeah, this is it. Lets get going."

Moody looked over to Borgin, "I suggest you don't mention this little transaction to anyone if you wish to remain outside of Azkaban." Borgin let out a cowardly whimper, and Moody chuckled as he followed Harry out the door and into the night.


End file.
